At the River

[Kris]

Journey looked up from picking burrs out of Bigears' feet. "Right behind you," he told Windsoft, grinning at Softling before turning back to his wolf-friend. "That's the last one," he murmured, scratching the big wolf's ears. "Once we get out of this flat grassland, you won't have to worry about those huge burrs."

He followed Windsoft and Softling to the food, idly wondering where Whirlwind and Tallspear had gotten to. A glance at the river told him all he needed to know about Tallspear; his friend was frolicking with Sunsong, Shellslip, and Firecat. He didn't see Whirlwind, but when Journey sent to her, her answering send--full of laughter and tinged with an awareness of Oakstaff--told him all he needed to know of what she was doing.

As for Stormfire . . . Journey had a feeling she was tormenting Mist. He wished her all the luck in pulling the elder's tail; nothing could get him to do the same.

As Windsoft and Softling ate, Journey considered what to do next. What he really wanted to do was explore the river. It was cool and inviting, and the thought of getting in and floating along its current was a soothing one. Too, what harm was there in just scouting things out a little?

He made up his mind as he ate, taking his time so that he'd have an easy time of digesting his meal before he got into the water.

[peachbug]

Softling gnawed at the raw meat, more energized than anxious now, having put her feelings out and aside with Windsoft's help. She could hear the others playing, flirting, and the wolves doing nearly the same amongst themselves. She was full and considered Windsoft and Journey beside her.

Oh, how she admired Windsoft. But Journey? Windsoft was a good mother, no question, and as much as Softling might want to protest Journey's strange willfulness as being separate of the huntress, it was very much the source. The resemblance was not only obvious in face, but in selves.

If she respected Windsoft, she supposed she'd have to respect the cub too somehow, Softling considered, crunching a bone.

Speaking of which...Softling felt a surprising pang of guilt at being so cold to Journey over the long ways of the trip. Something else she would have to make amends to, she supposed. She sighed to herself. The tracker had dug herself quite a ditch to fall in whenever she wanted to speak with her tribemates. Always biting and barking at the wrong times. Nothing to be done about it, of course. No way to plan it. Just do it.

She sighed again. 'I will act as the chances come. No more being a fool in front of Windsoft, and Whirlwind, and Tallspear...'